


Blonde enough

by InmydreamsJemeurs



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hearteyes, Jaime's Red Leather Jacket, Post Season 6, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, except the finale, well the second part
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8350627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InmydreamsJemeurs/pseuds/InmydreamsJemeurs
Summary: After meeting in Riverrun Jaime and Brienne thought they'd never see each other again. Guess what, they were wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a speculation by the awesome folks at Jaime&Brienne Online.

Jaime didn't know how he ended up where he was. On the side of that cuntface Walder Frey and his countless sons.

The feast was over and Bronn retired with a bunch of servant girls who initially had their eyes on him. He had so much on his mind that he hadn't even noticed until Bronn pointed at them. _Why should I care? I have a wife._

He was making himself remember of Cersei, the touch of her pale white skin, the feel of her fingers stroking his once so golden hair, how he felt when he was between her silky thighs. But it was so long ago that they had been together, the memories were faded and grey just like his hair. The last time was before Tyrion's "execution". More than a year ago.

He had been thinking about it a lot since then. The careless way of how he tossed the White Book off the table to make room for Cersei. It didn't feel right... He was trying to convince himself that Cersei was solely driven by her love for him when she came to her. Though something told him it wasn't about him, but her. As every one of their rushed, clandestine, bastard-begetting encounters. Dirty, sinful secrets that never happened. When he was inside her, he couldn't see her face, she kept it on his shoulder. At each thrust, he heard her whisper "I want", "I want". _She means me_ , he thought then. _She said she chose me in front of Father._

She came to her then like before their first night when she was dressed as a peasant girl. The most beautiful peasant girl the fifteen-year-old Jaime had ever seen. _She wanted me._ _Her twin, her other half._ After weeks of rejection and disgust of his stump, he finally let himself hope that everything could be the same.

_Let them whisper. They are so small I can't see them. I only see what matters._

Her kiss turned to febrile anguish on Jaime's lips. Her eyes were emerald holes that his soul disappeared in. He wanted to disappear. He wanted everything to be the same. To get back to the times when he could win her over with a smile and a kiss, turn her rage into lust. He wanted to stop bothering about his honour, his oaths, right and wrong. Oh how much easier things had been when he had both his hands.

_I don't love Tywin Lannister. I don't choose Tywin Lannister. I choose my lover._

And yet, Cersei hid her face on his shoulder and Jaime couldn't stop thinking about how she smirked when their father announced Tyrion's execution.

"Can I refill your glass, Ser?" 

A red-haired, freckled little servant girl stood at his left looking at him with a pleasant smile. His glass was almost full.

"No, thank you. I'm still working on what is left in it."

The girl didn't move. She kept looking at him with wide, smiley eyes. Jaime didn't know what to say.

"On a second thought, another glass would be advisable if I want to survive another conversation with your Lord Walder" he said with a light smile just so he could get rid of her and go back to his thoughts.

The girl smiled widely, revealing her crooked teeth. She bent over the table to fill his cup, leaning over Jaime so that there was less than an inch left between them. She did it in such an artificial manner with the mere intention to get close to him, Jaime had to realise Bronn was right.

The girl straightened and nervously pinned her messy hair behind her ear. She couldn't have been more than eighteen. Her figure was still boyish. Jaime could see the subtle little bumps under her rough shirt.

All at once Brienne's broad, homely face appeared in his head. And suddenly it was followed by a sentence that was uttered by Bronn a few hours ago. _Not blonde enough?_ What was that supposed to mean? And why was he thinking of Brienne right now? The stubborn, unreasonably honourable wench she was, she was probably already back in Winterfell with Sansa Stark, celebrating Jon Snow's victory over Bolton's bastard. Good for them. Why should he bother?

What he felt when he learnt that the forces of Ned Stark's son have taken back Winterfell he couldn't really tell. It was partly surprise, of course, but there was something else as well... something he couldn't name, something warm, that flowed through his veins like boiled ale and filled his heart with fragile and dulcet hope, the hope of something he was secretly and unconsciously praying for every night, something that he wouldn't allow himself to think about at daylight, the hope that now  _she_ might be safe.

He wouldn't dare to admit it but he would have never forgiven himself had something happened to her at Riverrun. He didn't allow himself to think about it, yet he felt it in his bones.

Jaime could still see her face in the dawn light as their boat was drifting away. He wasn't sure if he indeed saw her expression from that far or he was just imagining it... Anyways he didn't want to think about it, nor her face nor what he felt at the sight of the distance growing between them. It was almost as if he made a pact with himself not to reflect on his feelings that grew ever the stronger since he saw Brienne again. He felt it in his gut, that if he did, he'd probably have no other choice but to acknowledge what he's been trying to suppress ever since Harrenhal, that he was feeling dizzy whenever she was around, that he didn't feel so worthless and monstrous when those blue eyes met his own, that when they were in the same room the world was a bit lighter and the shadow of the upcoming winter a little less cold.

 

* * *

Podrick picked the tavern. The Seventh Raven, it was called. It was a rather big inn, otherwise, Brienne wouldn't have agreed to it. _There must be different folks other than_ Tullys _._ If they picked on her sword the other part of the company might help her fight them off.

"Are we having dinner, my lady?"

"Yes, Pod. Order what you want."

They had more than enough money left. Jaime saw to it back in King's Landing so that they'd never be in need.

Podrick bought two chicken pies and they sat down next to three middle-aged commoners.

Brienne felt exhausted even though she'd been sleeping well ever since they found Sansa. It was her recent failure she couldn't recover from. She was useless. Jon Snow and Sansa have taken back Winterfell without her help. Now she will most likely become Queen in the North who will no longer need the help of big and ugly warrior maidens. She fulfilled her oath, yet Jaime didn't take Oathkeeper. He took something else instead.

 _Had we never met again, I could eat now._ During the past months, she was doing just fine concentrating on her mission, now she had nothing to distract herself from certain thoughts. Thoughts that she was not allowed to think. 

Ever since she met Jaime in the tent, she was lost. Confused by all the decisions she would have to make in the future. When Jaime sent her away to find Sansa, it didn't even cross her mind that they'd inevitably be on opposing sides if they were to meet again. It wasn't about Riverrun. From the moment they first met in Robb Stark's camp, they have been on the opposite sides of this war. Honour tied her to the Starks and Jaime was a Lannister by blood. Nothing could change this. Not even the way Jaime was looking at her.

 _He's in love with his sister, everyone knows that. She's the most beautiful woman in Westeros, and who are you? Have you forgotten?_ Oh _you stupid, ugly fool, her children are his and you think about how he looks at you._

The pies were dry, not even resembling of the ones they ate at Hot Pie's. She was just tossing the food back and forth.

"When do we reach Winterfell, my lady?" Pod asked.

"A week, maybe less. Depends on the roads."

She didn't give a further explanation for Pod knew nothing about Beric Dondarrion and the Brotherhood and she wished it stayed like this as long as possible. _No need to get him confused too._

"I bet the Blackfish's body is already rottin in the ground" Brienne heard the bearded commoner talk.

"You think the Kingslayer could beat him with one hand?" asked the thin one.

"Nah. Not him. That good-for-nothing Edmure. He agreed to the Kingslayer's offer to surrender the castle and live" he spat next to their table. "Makes me want to puke."

"I heard the Kingslayer threatened to trebuchet his three-year-old" she heard the third man who had a moon shaped scar on his forehead.

"Sounds like him" said the first one. "Now that he cannot fight, the only way he can get things done is by making threats."

Brienne felt Pod's gaze studying her face. She had no idea how she looked, but she prayed she didn't show too much emotion. It was getting hot in there. She looked down at her plate and cursed herself for not eating. Now she cannot just storm out of the inn and leave a whole pie that they paid for.

"Do you think we'll be clear of the Lannisters once they march back to their fancy golden rock?" asked the thin man that looked like a scarecrow.

"Dunno. They stopped at the Twins. Walder Frey might try to sell his fuckin ugly daughters to them."

"Oh, the Kingslayer wouldn't take none" said the one with the beard. "As long as he has the most royal pussy to fuck in the Seven Kingdoms."

They burst out in laughter, thick, drunk, disgusting, ignorant laughter. Or so Brienne thought.

"Ah I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't make it back to the queen" said the third man as he rolled his eyes.

"What? You know somethin?"

"Not much, but unlike you bastards I happen to have a brain, so I can figure things out that you don't even see."

The bearded fellow spat again, this time on the table.

"And what would that be?"

"You think the Brotherhood would miss an opportunity like this? A whole bunch of Lannisters and all the fuckin Freys are gathered. They ain't that stupid" he sipped a bit of his ale meaningly to make his words sound more powerful. "The Kingslayer and Walder Frey won't live the morning if you ask me."

Pod saw Brienne rise from the table. He was afraid she'd smack one of them in the face, instead, she just went out the tavern. Pod followed her after he'd given a last look to his unfinished pie.

He imagined her face would be angry, but no, her eyes were full of fear, clearer than ever, like the sea before a storm.

"We're going to the Twins, Pod. Ready the horses."

 


	2. Chapter 2

’Ser?’ the red-haired servant girl was still standing next to Jaime, slightly bending over the table. The surprise and the confusion hadn’t wiped the flirtious smile off her face and Jaime knew it would only take a word of his and she would be sitting in his lap in two seconds.

She bit her lip boldly perhaps because Jaime looked up to meet her gaze or maybe for the last drunken Lannister soldier had left to take a piss, leaving the two of them alone at the table.

 _What on earth does she want?_ Jaime asked himself. _Does she not know I’m an abomination?_ Half of Westeros was disgusted by him for fucking his sister while the other half was jealous at him for doing the same. It was a secret everyone and their horses knew.

Of course he knew what she wanted. The same thing that all the weasel-faced Frey girls wanted. Jaime watched them fade away on their husbands’ side - ignorant, hulking and cruel men, who had probably already cheated on them with half of their sisters. His lord father once told him that nobody wants to marry a Frey girl. Yet, the women of the Twins rarely gave their maidenhead to the worms. They were married off to minor lords, landless knights, sold to an even more weasel-looking second cousin.

Suddenly, Jaime felt sorry for them. These women… they only knew love from songs. Maybe when they were young they were dreaming they’d be the exception to the rule and marry a gallant knight who would win a tournament wearing their ribbon before naming them the Queen of Love and Beauty. _That is what they think I am._ They mistake me for that impeccable knight of their dreams. _A knight with a golden hand instead of golden hair._

 _They picked the wrong man_ , Jaime thought, amused. The good ones were all dead, Rhaegar Targaryen, Arthur Dayne, Barristan Selmy. Even the Smiling Knight. All there was left was Jaime Lannister, the most unworthy to have ever been called a knight.

_The good ones always die… and the bad ones die too. But the weak ones… we stick around._

And yet they were ogling him as if he was an envoy from a wonderful unknown world, begging him to take them far away from their father, this house, the filthy, hateful stage of their humiliation and make them feel like a princess on her wedding night.

They were willing to forgive him that little misconveniance that he happened to father his nephews and niece for a few hours’ escape from their miserable lives. Jaime had to smile at that thought.

’What is so funny, Ser?’ asked the girl, imitating his smile.

 _That you think I can save you, when I can’t even save myself_ , he thought, taking another sip of his wine. _She must think I like cocks for not having thrown myself at her already._

’I am no Ser’ he said finally, with a serious face.

That was not exactly true. Or… who knew? Tommen only took away his white cloak which probably meant that he was still a knight, just not a kingsguard. He needed time to get used to it.

As long as he could remember he was both. _Jaime Lannister, after the battle against the Kingswood Brotherhood knighted by Ser Arthur Dayne at the age of fifteen for valour in the field. The youngest member ever to join the Kingsguard_ … How many times has he heard this?

Probably once. That day at the Harrenhal tourney when he received his white cloak. _The rest was just me repeating it over and over in my head._ When in fact it didn’t mean anything. _Only that Aerys wanted to rob father of his heir. He only chose me to teach him a lesson._ That is what layed beneath his cloak, not honour, not heroism, not valour – jealousy.

_He did it out of malice and I agreed to it for love. For Cersei._

That’s what he kept telling himself when Aerys sent him away from the tourney to King’s Landing. It hurt his pride and his sense of justice, but that was nothing compared to what was to come… But the fifteen-year-old Jaime didn’t know about that. Every night he fell asleep with the promise of Cersei’s lips on his, thinking it was all worth it for he’d be able to see her every day. Everything seemed to be a low price when Cersei was at stake. He had no idea their lord father would send her to Casterly Rock and frustrate their plan. Soon, he brought her back, but only for him to helplessly watch how he sells her to Robert.

But that was after Aerys’s death. After the Young Lion disappeared to give room for the Kingslayer.

Now it seemed fascinating to him how it had never crossed his mind before, what would have happened if he didn’t apply to the Kingsguard. Had he not given his consent to Cersei’s plan, would he be mourning now his late wife, Lysa Tully to whom his father wanted to marry him? He’d be Lord Lannister, brother-in-law to Eddard Stark… Jaime smiled grudgingly. _And some other fool would be Kingslayer now._

Nineteen years have passed since then. For nineteen years that soiled cloak was him. _And my hand… Ever since Catelyn Stark set me free I lose one body part after the other._

When he looked up the girl was still there. It was very visible that Jaime’s silence made her puzzled. She was torn whether to leave him be or to sit down next to him. He pitied her.

’What is your name?’ he asked.

The girl seemed delighted that he finally spoke to her. She opened her fleshy lips to answer.

’Fionnuala’ smiled the girl.

_Poor thing. Your father hasn’t been kind to you, either._

He stood up and slided his hand into his pocket. When he pulled out, three golden dragons were shining in his palm.

’Here, Fionnuala. Take it, buy a horse or a whole stable and leave this bloody place.’

Fionnuala looked at him with wide eyes, then at the dragons. Her tiny hand rested on Jaime’s as she answered with a confused look in her light grey eyes.

’Thank you, ser… my lord.’

Jaime forced on a benevolent smile before he turned away. After he took a few steps, he heard her voice behind his back.

’It means white tits… my name... Don’t you want to check it?’ she asked with a childish smile.

Jaime raised his voice so she would hear his answer after he turned his head.

’There’s no need, my lady, I take your word for it any day.’

Before he stood up, his aim was to find Bronn whereever he was, convince him to ready the horses and leave the Twins immediately. But now, all he wanted was to get out of this wretched hall, get some rest, leave at dawn’s first light and never come back to this place again.

_I should be satisfied. I did why I came here, I’ve retaken Riverrun, now I can go back to Cersei and Tommen and never leave them again._

This time he didn’t fail. This time he’s not bringing his daughter’s corpse to her mother. This time he was successful. Then why was he feeling like he’s forsaken all the good in this world?

The grim look of a stubborn wench appeared in front of his eyes.

’Riverrun was granted to the Freys by royal decree.’

’As a reward for betraying Robb Stark and slaughtering his family!’

The disappointment in the blue eyes still made him cold to his core.

’I know there is honour in you. I’ve seen it myself.’

Her voice was ringing in his head.

 _My honour didn’t stop me when I caused Brynden Tully’s death. My honour didn’t stop me from sitting at the same table as Walder Frey._ When he looked at himself through those blue eyes he seemed like the most despicable creature in the world. _What would she think of me now?_

Just as if he knew he was thinking about him, Lord Walder appeared, slightly more drunk than usual and definitely not less unbearable. Jaime could smell his foul breath of the old weasel _. I should have been drinking too, then maybe I could endure his sight._

’Surely you’re not going to sleep this early, ser?’ Lord Walder asked blandly.

’I’m afraid I have to, my lord. We have a long journey ahead of us.’

Lord Frey didn’t hear his answer, he was too busy groping a mud-brown haired girl that Jaime could only hope wasn’t one of his granddaughters.

He felt like he was suffocating. He wanted to move over, but a bunch of drunken idiots were stumbling in his way. One of them was wearing a huge bag with little shimmering pieces sewn on it that seemed like scales to Jaime. One of the others threw a net at him and toppled him to the ground followed by a loud applause. _They are reenacting the Blackfish’s death._   Jaime’s stomach clenched.

Lord Walder had probably noticed his hardened expression.

’I hope you’re enjoying our little play’ he said spitting wine in every direction.

’I prefer the more realistic ones’ Jaime said, trying to tame the loath in his voice.

’Oh that was nothing  compared to what we did to Robb Stark. You must have heard how we sewed his beast’s head on his body. I’m telling you, he felt it! He was groaning like a pussy, even after we cut off his head.’

Jaime looked at him. The smooth, pointy jaw with the sneaking little pig-like eyes. He pitied he hadn’t put on his golden hand so he could smack the hell out of the old cunt.

Lord Walder probably took his silence as a sign of interest, so he continued his splatter.

’Oh and his bitch mother! She begged me like a whore! I swear to the Seven, she promised to suck my cock if I let his son live. Oh but I have no right to brag, do I? Rumour has it she's done it for you too… Where are you going, my lord?’

Jaime fought his way through the drunk Freys contemplating on what would happen if he freed Edmure right now, gave him Riverrun and threw Walder Frey from a trebuchet. It would have been more than satisfying.

He was almost at the end of the hall when he heard Frey’s voice.

’Speaking of whores… I thought you’d be interested in this one.’

At first, Jaime didn’t turn back until he heard a desperate voice calling his name. His real name.

’Jaime…’ the voice was a knife twisting in his belly.

The first thing he saw was a dagger, behind it, a Frey, and the neck he was holding it against belonged to Brienne of Tarth.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

It was the maiden's heart that got her into trouble.

Everything went smoothly until she and Pod got off their horses. The Freys were drunk enough not to bother with a woman and a boy, and stupid enough not to pick up on Oathkeeper. _I should have left it with Sansa. Or given it to Jon Snow._ After all it was their father's sword, Ice that Oathkeeper was forged from.

 _You will protect Ned Stark's daughters with Ned Stark's own sword_ , he said and he meant it. Brienne knew, he did. At times like this, when he looked into Jaime's eyes, she couldn't understand how this Jaime could be the same she used to detest at the beginning of their journey. His eyes were perfectly chiseled emerald stones of sincerity, his voice full of candor and consciously concealed benevolence and Brienne was startled when she fully understood the situation.

 _He was striving to do the right thing and at the same time convincing himself that he doesn't care..._ And this man was the Kingslayer. The Oathbreaker. The man without honour. How can one be all of those things and carry so much good in his eyes?

Her insides were ripping between everything she believed in all her life, and the tingling sensation she felt when their eyes met. What kind of game were the gods playing when they created him? Why couldn't they just make him evil? Match his reputation? Why did he have the look of a child who was waiting for his mother to absolve him from an unbearable sin? He did terrible things, Brienne knew very well, but somehow they seemed less terrible when she thought they were the deeds of a monster and not those of a good man. Because it would mean that there's no code, there is no justice, and they live in a world where true knights are bound to forsake all their vows. And Brienne didn't know if she wanted to live in such a world.

He was poured out of goodness and vice like everyone else, it was only human fallibility and the sheer misfortune that made _him_ and not some other man the icon of villainy. 

But there was no one else to see it. Only her. No one saw through the mask Jaime perfected so much over the years that it almost stuck to his own skin. And it layed an enormous weight on Brienne's shoulders. As if his burden suddenly became hers too, so that she died a little every time someone spoke the name 'Kingslayer'. She wanted to tell them, he's not what they think, that he's good, that he's kind, that his name is Jaime.

Ever since he whispered his name into her skin within the steam rising from the Harrenhal bathtub, she felt that he confided his virtue to her. Everything she did was done for him, she knew it. She had to make up for Lord Stark's superiority, for the wrong judgment of the world, because no one else saw beyond it. Even Jaime's sins. She had to make up for them, too. That was the biggest quest anyone ever put on her. Sansa and her vow for Lady Catelyn were just tools for the same aim. To rip off the mask. To act in lieu of Jaime. She had to find her... for him. She had to keep her safe... for him. His last shreads of honour lied in her scabbard, and she'd have rather sacrificed her own, than to fail him. She had to keep believing that people were not as bad as their worst acts. She knew it now, only that she was yearning for the world to see it, too.

She was too terrified to even think of the absurdity of her actions. To imagine what it must have looked like from an outsider's point of view. Lady Sansa Stark's sworn sword leaving everything behind and risking her life for Jaime Lannister. It was only much later that she realized how foolishly she corrupted herself in the Stark's eyes and also how little did she think about the consequences of her actions. What did she think? That she could persuade the Freys that she only came for their help? And even if she arrived in time, how could she stand a chance against the Brotherhood alone? It was beyond foolish what she did, but it was even more suprising that these doubts haven't even occured to her when deciding to ride to the Twins. At that moment, there was nothing to consider, no chances to measure, it was crystal clear what was at stake, and she wouldn't have hesitated a moment longer, even if it meant certain death. It was not reason that drew her to the Twins, a set of emerald eyes did. 

Her heart was throbbing as they got closer and closer. Paralyzing fear took over her mind as she squirmed between faith and doubt. Slowly, the brutish monster of despair overpowered the hope's tender maiden and by the time Brienne saw the Twins only one question was echoing in her mind. _What if I'm late?_ What if he'll be dead by the time she arrives? Her thick neck twitched at the enormity of the thought and the image of her holding the dead Jaime uprooted every other thought from her brain. She kicked into her horse's loins as hard as she could, as hard as she had never done before. With each moment, the picture grew more and more detailed until it became a vision that she couldn't unsee no matter how many times she closed her eyes and opened them again. 

Jaime lay on the ground, with a dozen arrows run through his body. His gasps sounded like as if his soul was searching for a way out to be free. Brienne kneeled down next to him, putting his head in her lap, not having the first idea of what she could say. Finally Jaime's voice cleaved the silence.

"The captive knight has the right to know the name of his capturer."

The words rang familiar to Brienne and by the time she opened her mouth she recognized them.

"Jaime..."

Jaime smiled sadly in response.

"You didn't answer me back then, either. Still the same old stubborn wench."

Brienne laughed involuntarily, trying to drink in the sight of his smiling eyes.

"...Brienne of Tarth", she said aversely just like when he asked her name the first time on the rode to King's Landing.

"Tarth... Tarth... crescent moons, golden stars", Jaime kept playing, imitating his once so cocky voice. Warm tears appeared in Brienne's eyes when she realized how accurately Jaime remembered their very first conversation. "Lord... Selwyn Tarth. Your father."

Jaime stopped there for a bit. Brienne couldn't tell if it was intentional or that his lips stopped obeying him. Either way, she knew what was next to say.

"Don't... Jaime please... stop."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters, my lady? It's a long way to King's Landing... we could get to know one another."

"Jaime. I'll get you a master... someone. Just stay here." It was absurd how he could talk so much with all those arrows in his lungs.

"No, I want to finish it. Now, how was it? Uhm...Have you known many men? Women? Horses?... Wow, is this really what I said then? I'd have killed myself right there, if I were you."

Brienne let out a big laugh, but then an ugly cry has followed.

Jaime looked at her with genuine care and surprise.

"My lady? Why are you crying?"

Why would he ask her that? Wasn't it obvious?

Brienne didn't have the energy to find the proper answer. Nothing mattered now. The words burst out of her mouth in the midst of her sob.

"Because... you're dying."

"Are you sure?" 

Brienne wiped her red eyes. What was he talking about? Has his head got injured, too? But when she looked down, she saw that the arrows have disappeared and his wounds have healed as well. Jaime was wearing his red leather jacket, safe and sound, not a golden hair out of place. The golden hand vanished, leaving his stump visible. He looked handsome as ever, and Brienne didn't know what to make of his widening smile.

"What? Did you really think if I was dying, I had no better things to say than to recite our first conversation?" he smirked while kneeling up.

"You were dying... and the arrows..."

"Disappeared just as easily as they came."

Brienne heard his words, but couldn't understand them. What was going on? The scenery altered with every moment, the walls vanished and Brienne saw fresh green meadows with dandelions growing on them. It reminded her of Tarth.

"Where's the Brotherhood? Where are we?"

Jaime looked around as if he was only searching for a nice place to picnic.

"Oh, this? This is not real", he said in a disquietingly calm voice. "We're only in your head. You're still on your horse along with Podrick on the way to the Twins to save me."

Brienne looked at him. His words triggered her memories, and suddenly she remembered the fear that created her vision. She could feel the wind scour her damaged cheek and she knocked her spur into the horse even harder. But then, seconds later, she found herself on the meadow again.

"Am I dreaming?"

"Oh, no", Jaime said with a light smile, "but you have a stronger imagination, than I thought, Brienne of Tarth."

Jaime didn't seem to have been bothered by the situation at all, so much so that he sat down in the grass and started to take off his boots.

"Oh, not a corn again!"

"I don't understand", said Brienne, "if you aren't dead and this is not real... then why are we here?"

"You tell me. Perhaps you were afraid you'd never see me again alive, so you created this, because you needed to tell me something."

"What?"

"How could I know?" Jaime shrugged his wide shoulder nonchalantly. "I'm only in your head. But I suggest you say it soon, because you're getting close and Podrick looks worried that you're talking to yourself."

Brienne didn't understand any of what was happening and to her surprise she felt even more exposed to Jaime in her own mind, than ever in the real world. Here, there was no greater cause to hide their own interests behind, no tables to separate them. Just the two of us, alone. Brienne was terrified that with only the slightest movement or gesture, she could reveal too much of her feelings, that she successfully managed to conceal so far. She needed to end this as soon as possible.

"All right. I don't want you to die. That's it... Can I go now?"

Jaime gave her a mordant look. "It's not me who keeps you here, remember?"

"Wh-What are you doing?"

Jaime didn't stop after his boots, he began undoing his jacket, too. Without wanting to look, Brienne's eyes caught a glimpse of golden skin. She could only hope her cheeks didn't turn scarlet, yet.

"I'm not doing anything, Lady Brienne", Jaime said with his smooth, flirtatious voice. "This is how _you_ want to imagine me... Oh, good to know you like what you see. Shall I strip to smallclothes to help you think?"

Brienne could feel the blood running to her face. So he saw her. Great. _It doesn't matter. He's nothing but a vision. This is not real. Let's just get this over with_...

Yet, for a product of her imagination he seemed so... tangible. His face looked so young and carefree as if the worst thing that happened in his life was the corn he got during their roadtrip. Brienne realised, that this is how she always remembered him, despite the injuries and the growing brokenness in his eyes that she observed in Riverrun. She knew exactly what was under his shirt, and she felt ashamed in front of herself for remembering every single detail since the Harrenhal tub. Jaime was right; this was _her_ making, this is how _she_ wanted to imagine him. 

She couldn't help, but think about what would have happened if she just stayed there, locked in her dream forever. Sure, it was merely a mirage, but it was too sweet to just abandon. Here, both of them were alive, both of them were safe, and unlike in the real world, they weren't bound by honour to kill each other. Here, Jaime wasn't the Kingslayer and she wasn't 'Brienne, the Beauty'. They were alone.

Jaime must have seen her hesitation and decided to take a step closer.

 _He looks at me like I'm the fairest maiden in the world... which is probably true, since I am the only maiden here._ _This is not real._

"I don't have time for this, Jaime" she said finally, resisting the emerald eyes' temptation.

"Fine" he said putting his hands in the air. "I just wanted to help you come to a conclusion, you should know by now. Why have you come after me in the first place?"

What kind of question was that again? _I just told him, I didn't want him to die. Why isn't that enough?_

"Because those men in the tavern said that the Brotherhood..."

"Boring. Do better."

Brienne choked on her own breath. Why would he make her say it? Why would _she_ make herself say it? What good will that do? The Jaime in her head was even more irritating than the real one, if that was possible.

"Because they are going to kill you, if they haven't done it already, gods, Jaime, would you prefer if I just stood by?!"

A giant, smug smile appeared on Jaime's face that Brienne would have prefered to wipe off with a hit of her fist.

"Of course not", said Jaime slowly, visibly enjoying every bit of her agony, "I understand, I am in danger, but how does that concern you? I mean...WHY...?"

Brienne knew she was red as a beet. _Why does it concern me? Ha! It doesn't! I should turn back and leave him to his fate._ But there was no escaping of him, now. Brienne felt she was suffocating under his heavy gaze.She was on the brink of crying, and she knew she would burst had Jaime said one more thing.

"You know, why..." she said so quietly she barely heard herself.

Jaime stayed silent for a few seconds, that seemed like hours to Brienne. Afraid of all the previously imagined horrid ways he might react, she didn't dare to look at Jaime. She was angry at herself for giving out her heart so easily, for confessing everything she forbidded herself with three meaningless words that in another context wouldn't have meant anything, but here, now, both of them knew what they stood for. But she couldn't help herself, she was physically tired of having to conceal it. Tired and weary of the armour she had to put on every day to veil her feelings. Suddenly she felt light. Naked, in front of herself. It was a terrifying feeling and yet so sweet. After all, where should one be honest, if not in her own mind?

When she looked up, she saw Jaime's tender smile that made her heart ache for all of this to be real.

"Then you'd better hurry and rescue me to find out if I feel the same."

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me  
> or which I cannot touch because they are too near  
> your slightest look easily will unclose me  
> though I have closed myself as fingers  
> you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens  
> (touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose"  
> /E. E. Cummings/

For a few moments Jaime was considering he might have drunk too much or that somehow Frey managed to poison his wine and he started hallucinating. Then, he thought his own mind was playing a trick on him and it was actually just some peasant girl whom the Freys dressed in Lannister armor to deceive him. But he quickly perished this thought, realising how impossible it would be to find a woman even slightly resembling of Brienne.

No, it was her, the Maid of Tarth standing in front of him just a few feet away, pale as a moribund and unshakable as a statue carved of ivory and steel. The dagger was so close to her, Jaime could see the little red yarn of blood it left on the long, white neck.

What he felt in these everlasting moments he couldn’t tell, but under the paralysing fear that settled in his joints after accepting that it was indeed Brienne, there lay another feeling just as intense, something that surprised even Jaime himself. Whatever sin it was he was almost happy – precisely because it _was indeed_ Brienne!

Of course he didn’t know that, but he did feel a little nook in his heart quietly lit up that had been dark since he saw her raw away with Podrick at the night of Riverrun’s siege, and before that numb for many, many years ever since the death of the last dragon king. Jaime simultaneously damned and thanked the gods for bringing her here.

It was just now that he realised, he had been sure he would never see her again. Now it seemed unthinkable how he could cope with that, how he managed to sit down and dine or form words with his mouth and overall act like a human being. Seeing her face again, was like a remedy to a disease he didn’t even know he had. But unfortunately they weren’t alone this time…

„Well, well, well… could it be that my Lord Jaime knows this hideous excuse of a woman?” asked Lord Walder merrily as if this was the part of the night he had been waiting for all evening.

Jaime didn’t answer. In other circumstances he’d have knocked the old cunt’s head to the floor by now, but he couldn’t break his gaze from Brienne. She was looking at him fixedly, rigid and blue, not begging, not pleading, but clambering as if she was about to fall off a cliff and his eyes were the only ones holding her up. She seemed surprisingly calm for a person whose neck was only a hair’s breadth away from a dagger. Jaime was afraid that if he looked away, he might never see her eyes open again.

He would have given his other hand to know what was it that her eyes were trying to convey, to know what she wanted him to do. It would have only cost one look of hers and Jaime wouldn’t have hesitated to jump at the fifty Freys surrounding them with one bare hand and one bare stump.

What he didn’t know was that there was no secret to be unveiled in Brienne’s eyes other than the sheer bliss and relief she felt having realised she wasn’t late and Jaime was still alive.

_Tyrion would know what to do._

Lord Frey’s piss-smelling laughter filled the air.

„Oh, I’m sorry, my lord. Has the cat got your tongue?” he said narrowing his foul little eyes. „If not, then not. Gods forbid I force anything on you… Let’s make the bitch scream instead.”

„No!” Jaime’s roar hit the wall and from there flooded the entire hall.

Lord Walder turned towards him slowly, his left brow raised so high, it looked like it might fall off his head.

„Yes” Jaime said defeated, so faintly as if he only wanted Brienne to hear it. „Yes, I know her.”

He looked at Brienne for a second. Her face was unchanged, her eyes still clinging to Jaime’s. He wished he could take care of everything with another shout of „Sapphires!” again like he had done with the Bloody Mummers. His other hand seemed like an unreasonably low price for it.

„Interesting” Frey said. „May I ask from where?”

 _No, you may not, you back-stabbing bastard._ The blood was pounding in Jaime’s brain to find the right answer. But it only grabbed the truth.

„She brought me to King’s Landing from the Stark camp… My father rewarded her for it. You have no business with her.” He didn’t notice that his voice slipped and became quite intimidating, as though he was the one threatening Walder Frey.

„Are you sure?” said Lord Frey and the wrinkles around his eyes piled up. „If I were you, my lord, I wouldn’t make such a bold statement. I regret if this creature is somehow important to you, even though I thought you were more… selective when it comes to women.” A condescending smile took over Frey’s face.

Jaime had grown used to the cheap puns about him and Cersei, that’s why he couldn’t account for the fact that he never saw Lord Walder so repugnant as in this very moment. He stood directly in front of him, a good foot shorter than Jaime. His breath smelled of averice, envy and raped teenage girls’ shame.

 _Father should have executed him, instead of giving him a castle._ He couldn’t wrap it around his head that just a few days ago he risked his men’s life to get Riverrun back for this vermin.

As if he sensed Jaime’s growing hatred and disgust, Frey took a step closer to him and continued.

„I think you’ll have to agree with me, especially after considering what we found with her.”

Jaime looked at Brienne again. Her arms were held back by two Frey men, her neck grabbed by another. _It takes three to keep her still. Hasn’t she been disarmed, we could fight our way through them. We’d die, but we’d take half of them with us._

Lord Frey went up to one of his men, the one that was standing next to Brienne and grabbed something. Then, he raised his voice as if he was a crier or the judge in a court while ridiculously holding up the crumpled piece of paper.

„A letter written to the late Brynden Tully by none other than his niece’s only living daughter, the kingslayer and traitor, Sansa Stark.”

 _Of course_. Jaime was so sure Oathkeeper would sell Brienne as a Lannister sympathizer that he forgot about that bloody letter. He was yet to open his mouth and figure out a lie, when he heard Brienne’s voice.

„Don’t you dare speak of her.”

She was holding her head back, fighting against the Frey who tied her down, so Lord Walder could look her in the eye. He turned his back and took a step closer to Brienne.

„I beg your pardon?”

Jaime clenched his jaw and looked at Brienne as if he could transfer his thoughts to her. _For fuck’s sake, don’t say a word. Just now, Brienne. Just..just shut up._

„You’re speaking of the rightful heiress of Winterfell, child to Eddard and Catelyn Stark, whom you shamefully murdered.” Brienne blushed by the attention that was focused solely on her, but then she added in a quiter but not less dignified manner. „Do not dare to ever speak her name again.”

 _Stupid, stubborn, honourable wench_ , Jaime hissed despite the fact that her words miraculously rhymed with his own thoughts and that earlier the evening he wanted to hit Walder Frey with his golden hand.

Frey’s eyes fixed at Brienne’s, then, as if he was shamed by the moral superiority he found there, he turned his gaze to Jaime again.

„Did you hear her? She’s not even hiding her shameful treachery! Maybe she even helped the Stark bitch poison our good king, Joffrey!”

_Oh, for fuck’s sake. In the end he’ll manage to pin all the bloody deaths of the five kings on her._

„Lord Frey” Jaime said taking a step towards Brienne „my brother, Tyrion was found guilty of my nephew’s murder. Lady Brienne had nothing to do with it.”

Frey looked amused by the word „nephew” as if it was only him who knew the secret, but acted like someone who generously chose to stay silent due to his excessive mercy and discretion. He was measuring Jaime and it wasn’t difficult for him to find a grip on him. As soon as he opened his mouth Jaime knew what he was going to say.

„Am I supposed to take _your_ word for it? The word of the man who killed the very king he was sworn to give his life for?”

Jaime gritted his teeth. The same words were uttered by many men in the past nineteen years, certainly by a lot who were worthier than Walder Frey. Still, that didn’t calm Jaime, if anything, it made him more resentful. _Is there a big enough worm in these wretched kingdoms who isn’t free to rub Aerys in my face?_

His gaze escaped to Brienne who was staring at Lord Frey as if he was the most despicable human being on earth, and then went on to rest her eyes at Jaime’s face with such compassion that almost hurt him. Her eyes made his heart heavier than anything that happened that night. It was the same look she had in the Harrenhal bath before Jaime almost fell and drowned in it.

_If this is true, why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you tell Lord Stark?_

Jaime swallowed the word as soon as it formed in his mind. She had to survive this. There was no other way. Jaime didn’t know how he was going to save her, but he wished he could, more than he anguished for his long lost right hand after waking up from his dreams. More than he had wished for Myrcella’s safety, more than he wanted Cersei’s forgiveness. If somebody, Brienne had to live.

It required him great effort to look back into Walder Frey’s grey eyes.

„You got your castle back. What else do you want from me?”

Frey looked almost happy that he asked, as if he was waiting for him to pose this question.

„Me? Oh, this isn’t about me! This is about being a loyal servant to our King Tommen. You, boy, may have forgotten what you owe to your… nephew’s memory, but our beautiful queen certainly has not. Have you forgotten the reward that is due to whoever helps her find Sansa Stark?”

Jaime didn’t remember the last time his palms were sweating. Maybe when he was Arthur Dayne’s squire, a lad of fifteen. But he had two hands back then. Now, it felt strange.

He lowered his head. _I should have expected this_. Truth be told, unconsonsciously he was expecting it ever since he sent Brienne away with Oathkeeper to find the Stark girl. _I made her a stranger to both the North and the South, an enemy everywhere._ For how could the Starks trust someone carrying a Lannister sword? And how could the Crown befriend a wench who is sworn to Sansa Stark?

  _I made sure she doesn’t survive the war no matter who wins._

Frey’s mouth didn’t stop moving.

„I bet this cow will sing like a nightingale once your sister learns whom she serves.”

He looked at Brienne. „Maybe not at first… a little lecturing might come in handy, but at least they can’t make her any uglier.”

He looked at Jaime to see if he would respond, he was disappointed.

„…Then, if they’re done, maybe they’ll send her back to me, so we could play with her a little. Nobody here has been with a woman who could pass as a man.”

Laughter filled the hall, but Jaime didn’t answer. Lord Walder was emboldened by his silence so he went up to him.

„Oh, don’t look so grim, my lord, you can have a ride too. How would you like that, Ser?” he asked with his tongue running through his lips. „I promise I won’t tell your sister.”

Another laughter. 

„Look at her” he continued looking over to Brienne „I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. She looks wet for you alrea- ”

By the time he said it, five men had jumped at Jaime to separate his left fist from their lord’s face. Jaime looked for his sword, but his hand only found an empty scabbard on his hip. He felt his good arm being stretched out and parallel to that his phantom hand started to scream. He shoved his elbow into a Frey’s gut, but it didn’t take more than a second for another to take his place, who started with kicking off his legs. He felt his knees crashing onto the floor, but he didn’t hear the sound it made, only  a woman’s cry of agony, a howl more resembling of a wounded animal, than a human being.

„Jaime” it was Brienne’s voice.

„Jaime!” she kept screeching as she was dragged on the floor.

Jaime searched for her eyes to tell her he’s sorry. For not betraying his house at Riverrun, even though or precisely because she never asked it from him, for sending her on the mission by herself, for bestowing the task of winning his honour back upon her, for the Bloody Mummers, the bear pit, for that one time he tried to kill her. For she was chosen by Catelyn Stark out of all the knights to escort him to King’s Landing. For the moment she first saw him. Everything, everything.

„Shut up, you ugly whore!” shouted one of them while smacking Brienne across the face.

Jaime hit once, twice, not sure whom or what, until he lost count, but there were always more, when one disappeared, another showed up and he was on the ground again, his head held back, his face warm and sticky. There was one word on his tongue. _Sapphires_.

If only Lord Selwyn Tarth had them.


	5. Chapter 5

The wind was blowing sharply through the meadow Jaime was walking through. The grass whispered sweet little tales of the first youth to his feet as he was passing by. There was no sun on the sky which explained the blueish half-light that made everything in his sight into its sinister doppelganger. He looked down his trunk to the place where his right hand had been until the encounter with Zollo's blade. It was there. His sword hand, strong, tanned and intact. _A dream_ , Jaime realised. Nevertheless he rested his eyes on it a few seconds longer while voluptuously moving his fingers in and out forming and unforming a fist. It amazed him how he only had to think about moving the knuckles and they magically obeyed without any effort. _We all dream of things we cannot have._

He was in a cemetery, that much was clear. Tombs, as far as he could see in the half-light. Jaime went closer to them.

 _I've been here before_ , he thought without being able to tell what gave him the impression. _I've been here as a child_.

He smelled something familiar in the air. The salt carried from the Sunset Sea and a little boy's dreams. _Casterly Rock_ , he knew with the certainty of dream.

He walked into the thick of the tombstones without taking a careful look at them. He had the feeling that he was supposed to find something there. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard someone call the little boy.

"Jaime."

He turned around. It was his father, Tywin Lannister, the ruthless, cunning ruler of the Seven Kingdoms who had consumed three kings and who in the end did not shit gold. But now he was only Father, probably even at the age of what Jaime himself was now. They looked at each other.

Jaime didn't recognise himself in his eyes.

"Why are you wasting your time here?" he asked with his usual reckoning tone.

"Father" Jaime said to himself rather than the man standing in front of him. It was good to say the word, gave him the feeling that he still had a family.

"I'm gone" said Lord Tywin as if he was reading Jaime's thoughts. "You are the head of our house now. I thought you would know what to do."

_Great. Even in my dreams I'm a disappointment._

"I took back Riverrun from _your_ enemies for the man _you_ gave it. I'm sorry I don't know why I had the impression that you might want me to do that."

"Grow up, Jaime." Tywin's voice snapped in the nothingness. His father's stone cold eyes blew out Jaime's sarcasm.

"You are not a son anymore. And you're no less a fool than your sister, if you still want to be a brother. How many of us have to die for you to realise who you are?"

Jaime didn't know what to say. _Who am I?_ His father's tone surprised him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't attune this Tywin with the father he had all his life who couldn't stop lecturing his children about the legacy, the family, the Lannister name, the only thing that lives on. And now when he should be proud of him, all of a sudden he says it doesn't matter.

"What about what I said before the battle in the Whispering Woods?" asked Tywin as if he continued to read his thoughts. "It was well over four years ago and yet... are you the man you were meant to be, Jaime?"

He hated these words since the first time his father said them in the tent, years ago. Because that man he wanted as a son wasn't Jaime. Lord Tywin wanted some ideal man who could learn to write and read just as easily as he learnt to fight, someone who inherited his ruthlessness, someone who wouldn't hesitate to kill Ned Stark even if he was wounded, someone who wouldn't be so foolish to attack him at daylight on the streets.

"Are you the man _you_ think you were meant to be?"

Now that was an entirely different question. Jaime didn't know what kind of man he should have been or could have been. _Perhaps I was always meant to be the Kingslayer._

He knew who he had _wanted_ to be, though. But that man died shortly after Jaime forsake the holy oath both of them had sworn.

His heart ached at the memory of Arthur Dayne, at the naive desire of his younger self to be like the Sword of the Morning. Now it seemed so childish, like a fairy tale. Knights of real life aren't loyal, heroic or just. They rape maidens, beat little girls on command and only care about their own well-being. Even considering the knights he grew up with, his childhood friends, there was no man like Arthur Dayne.

Just one woman, who wasn't a knight.

But he couldn't tell that to his father. He didn't want him to be like Arthur Dayne, but a second Tywin Lannister.

"Look at the graves, Jaime" Lord Tywin said.

Jaime's eyes moved to the grey tombs covered with ivy. The names were already a bit faded, it took some time for him to recognise them.

"Me, you, your brother, your sister and her children" thuded Father's voice as Jaime saw his own name on a grave along with Tyrion's and Cersei's, his mother's, his grandfather's, every Lannister that was ever born.

"Everyone has to die. But we can all choose to be who we want first."

He looked so different and his voice.. almost warm. _Death becomes him_ , Jaime thought, secretly wanting it weren't a dream. He wanted to stay just a bit longer with this father he never had.

"Open the door. I'll teach him who the Freys are for once and for all."

Jaime heard the order through the light veil of his dream and he knew at the back of his skull that it came from reality. It was Walder Frey's voice. He needed to wake up.

He lifted his head from the crooked bench that had been depriving him of sleep for three days, until his eyelids gave in and he found himself in the cemetery.

"Oh, my lord" he heard Walder Frey's two-tongued voice "it breaks my heart to have to see you like this. I should have insisted on putting you in one of my family chambers, but my men... especially the one whom you unfortunately hit in the crotch... I hope you agree, it was the just decision."

_Is he waiting for me to give consent to my own imprisonment?_

He would have rather be captured by Robb Stark for the second time, than to utter a single word that would make Frey's victory any sweeter.

Suddenly Edmure popped into his mind. _Is he happy now?_ The Kingslayer finally got what he deserved after so many years of slaughtering his family. _Tables turn faster than both of us would have thought_. Now, he's the one being held prisoner and Edmure's father-in-law is the bastard who'll be making the threats. He couldn't really tell why he bothered, but a sudden thought made him uneasy.  _Did he see me then as I see Frey now?_

 "I'm most hopeful we can forget about these... unfortunate events. After all it is your own interest as well" Frey began settling himself opposite of Jaime on a similar bench.

The blood ran into Jaime's face. _Forget... If only I had my right hand._

"Where is Brienne?" he asked with a colourless tone.

For some unknown reason Walder Frey's teeth started showing.

 _It is a smile_ , he realised.

Jaime's brow trembled and the next thing he knew he was up on his feet, with Frey's cloak in his fist.

 _Brienne_.

He didn't know where he got the courage or the foolishness to say what he said, only that he all of a sudden felt like he had nothing to lose.

"We are both Kingslayers, you see, except I killed mine by myself, whereas you were sitting and drinking while others did it for you. It is just you and me in here, no soldiers for you to hide behind or do the job for you, and if you think I need my other hand to kill you, my lord, you are mistaken."

His voice had turned into a whisper by the end, there was more passion in it than tone and later he wondered if he indeed uttered these words or just thought about them. At that moment, he wasn't the Kingslayer, wasn't the Lion of Lannister, only a man struck by the irrecoverable fear that he might have just lost something most precious he didn't even know he had.

"You will tell me where she is and you will tell me that she's well. You will look me in the eye and tell me that you didn't harm her, that if I meet her I won't notice a hair of hers being out of place and you will try to sound sincere while telling this. And pray that I believe you, my lord, unless I swear to all the damned gods that I will make you regret the day you decided to serve my father."

Frey didn't look frightened, rather confused and taken aback by how his prisoner, a man whom he beaten and humiliated dared to look at him and talk as if it was the other way around.

"You're forgetting about your circumstances" he said trying to pull away as far as he could from Jaime's fastening grip. "You're not in a position to make threats."

But feeling that Jaime was ready to keep his threat even before he could call for the guards, he decided to give him an easy relief.

"Get your hand off of me, cripple. The bitch is alive and well."

Jaime dropped his gaze to the floor. He believed the words Frey said, with his heart rather than his wits and he didn't want to ruin it with noticing one false wrinkle under his eyes that could imply he was lying to him.

His knees gave in and he sat back on the bench letting out a subtle sigh.

"So it's true, huh?" asked Lord Walder in a half-mocking half-dumbfounded voice.

"What is?"

"She must have some magic pussy between her legs, if she lured you away from your sister."

"What?" Jaime froze, struck by the underlying presumption, so much so that he forgot to fly into a rage again.

"Oh come on. It's not even like you were making efforts to hide it. Even a blind man would recognise Lannister gold like that."

He was still surprised how people read Oathkeeper as an unerring sign of him and Brienne... He didn't care about the never ending filthy gossips about him and Cersei, but somehow this was different.

Brienne's blushing, freckled face came to his mind when he was dragging himself into the Harrenhal tub and he thought about these people with disgust. Oh how little they know of her! But Jaime knew it wouldn't matter if he denied it, because surprisingly their lies sounded more true than the actual truth. _What is the truth?_

_Had I known they would brand her a whore, I would have given that bloody sword to Tyrion to use it to kill father._

"Is it what you want? Gold?"

"I told you what I want. Helping our king find the traitors that killed his brother. I don't see why you would find anything wrong in that... Unless somehow - gods forbid the supposition - you are involved too."

 _Finally you said it, you bastard. Managed to put two and two together? Come on, send us both to my sister._  

"Jaime Lannister, our very own Kingslayer, the golden heir of the Lannisters sercetly helping the Starks..."

Jaime tilted his head and listened. He had no intention of interrupting him. _There you go, say all the fancy names, I know how revolting it sounds._

Something flashed in Walder Frey's rat-like eyes, Jaime knew they were getting close to the real reason he came into his cell.

"I wonder what your father would have to say about that if he was alive. Witnessing his oldest son betray his family..."

His phantom hand was screaming to meet Frey's teeth, but he only bit into his lip. He despised him too much to care to forge a lie for him.

"If he was alive. But as you're aware of it too, he isn't."

It seemingly staggered Lord Walder how he basically admitted to his treachery. _If I'll feel shame, believe me, it won't be for the only oath I ever kept._

"What about your sister?" asked Walder Frey trying to find another grip.

"What about her?"

"Does she know that she's been sleuthing after her brother all along?"

 _Cersei._ It amazed him how he hadn't thought about her for so long. _Where does she think I went? Is she searching for me?_

Jaime swallowed his thoughts.

"You have forgotten that my army is still in front of your walls."

That was his last refuge, the only thing that granted him some sanity.

"I beg to differ, Ser, chances they are probably back to King's Landing by now."

Frey stopped and didn't speak for minutes. Instead he feasted his eyes on Jaime's sunken, weary face. When he started to speak again Jaime would have given his other hand to know if he was lying.

"One of your men listened to the voice of reason and informed the others of the changes of decisions you have decided to make, meaning you want to stay here a little longer due to family business, but you also want your men back at the capital where they belong, so they could protect the king should the need arise... Bronn, his name was, I think."

 _Liar_ , Jaime said to himself. Bronn was a sellsword, but no matter how hard he tried to look like as if he was the greediest bastard on earth, he was a good man. If any of it was true, Bronn must have been forced to lie to his men. _He's probably rotting in a similar dump a few cells away._

"Alright then, you've won. I have no army, no sword, no hand. You could kill me with a pocket knife and yet out of all the ways you chose to starve me out while making me smell your breath."

"Oh I'm not letting you starve out and I'm definitely not killing the brother of the queen mother."

Frey rose from the bench and towered over Jaime with a gloating face. His eyes were shining over the bliss of superiority. _This is it. That's the only reason he came._

"You think I'm that stupid, don't you? Don't you think yourself to be so special, boy. Your father had underestimated me for years, the Starks for decades and here you were sitting at my table rolling your eyes and said "the people fear the Lannisters, not the Freys". Ha! Lannisters, you say? What is left of your house other than a treachorous halfman, a drunkard whore and a useless cripple? There is no House Lannister anymore, the last one was killed sitting on his own shit by his own son."

_He left another son._

"As for your slut" Frey continued readily "don't worry about her. My sons will be glad to escort her to the capital. Pray that your sister doesn't notice what I have, and maybe she'll spare her torture and only chop off her head."

Jaime Lannister had never felt so powerless in his life. _This is my making. They didn't brand her, I did. I might as well write my name on her forehead, it would be less suspicious._ He wanted to scream, wanted to slap himself for being so naive to believe he'd never have to pay for his stupidity. 

_She can't die because of me._

His heart anguished over the thought of having to live in a world without Brienne.

He pressed his voice out of numbness and desperation.

"Surely, you don't think you can get away with this if you don't kill me." 

The smile on Walder Frey's face now seemed unremoveable.

"Oh that won't be necessary. I know you won't interfere."

"May I ask what makes you so sure about that, my lord?"

"Because if you try anything, your sister might just learn who was the one helping the Stark bitch all along. Think about it, there will be no pussy left for you then."

For a moment Jaime tried to imagine how Cersei would react. His sister knew he was the one who let Tyrion free. And he wasn't sure if she had forgiven him for that yet. Now if she found out that he kept his oath to Catelyn Stark and sent Brienne to protect Sansa just a day after she was begging him to bring her head to her...

 _She would never trust me again._ But after a second the realisation snuck into his heart that it had so little significance now as nipples on a breastplate, and he found himself he didn't care. He didn't have the time or the ability to worry about anything else since he saw the Frey sword against the ivory pale neck. It put a shade on every other problem of his and made them seem like mundane little inconveniances. _She has to live. If someone, Brienne has to live._

Each time he left King's Landing with the hope of getting back to Cersei as soon as possible. The same was true for Riverrun, it seemed like just another obstacle between him and her, that it almost made him forget how actually being with Cersei ever since he lost his hand fell way far from the expectations both of them had. Jaime had hoped that maybe if he finally succeeded in retaking Riverrun after the several disappointments he caused to Cersei, it would make up for the ugly stump that replaced the hand that once could turn her slaps into carresses so easily. And despite his hopes, deep down in a place that made him irrepairably different from Cersei, he knew that there was something very wrong in that. 

He knew since Joffrey's death that the woman he loved all his life would kill the other if she got on to Oathkeeper. But so far he didn't allow himself to think about it, perhaps because he sensed if he did, he couldn't delude himself any longer. But now it didn't matter if Cersei would eventually forgive him for Tyrion and Myrcella or not, it was because of her that Brienne's life hung by a thread and Jaime knew he couldn't ever forgive her for that.

He didn't notice when Walder Frey left his cell, he was waiting for the night to fall down so he could save Brienne of Tarth or at least die trying. For it was now clearer than the sun that whatever man he was meant to be, he couldn't be without her.

He will lie, bribe or kill, but he will get out of this bloody cell. _She can't die because of me._

It was past midnight when he was getting up from the floor and heard the sound of approaching steps. Somebody knocked on the cell's door and Jaime heard a rusty voice.

"Wake up, Kingslayer! Death has come for you." 


	6. Chapter 6

For a moment Jaime was considering he was dreaming again. Maybe it wasn't just his father who was merely the creation of his jumbled mind, but Walder Frey and even Brienne as well.  _This whole thing ought to have never happened._

Then he thought Frey was lying to him and he did indeed plan to execute both of them there and then. Captured by a bunch of half-witted Freys on a feast held at his honour, what a shitty way to go.  _How not original._

"Hey, you ain't takin' the Kingslayer nowhere!" Jaime heard the voice of his guard. "Lord Walder's orders is to keep 'im 'ere until they've taken that ugly bitch to the capital."

_And people complain about how loyalty is dead._

"You can shove your order up your ass" said the man with the rusty voice. "Help us take him to the Brotherhood and you won't ever have to answer orders at all."

"What the seven fucks are you talking about?"

"Tell 'im" grunted the man to a third party.

Jaime heard a strangely altered steady baritone through the door. The man was clearly not from the same place as the other two were, but was trying to do his best to seem so.

"Your lord wants to let the golden goose free."

"Goose?" 

His guard was a rather simple man, it seemed.  _I should have tried to escape earlier, maybe he wouldn't even have noticed._

The rusty-voiced fellow helped him out.

"The Kingslayer, you idiot."

"It feels good to see his entitled ass locked up, doesn't it?" tried the third man again. "He's had everything all his life while you had nothing. But now he's sitting in his own shit and can only eat when you say so. Feels good, doesn't it?"

His guard must have given a sign of approval, because the man continued.

"You see it's an opportunity that shouldn't be wasted. For what happens now? Two weeks pass and he'll be at his golden rock again with his sister and you? You'll still be here watching over some good-for-nothing, eating the same shit as him... All I'm saying, why not make the most of the situation as long as the sun shines?"

Jaime heard a hesitating silence. Then the rusty voiced man picked up the thread of speech again.

"Listen, Derrick, this fellow here says that if we take the Kingslayer to the Brotherhood they would pay good money for 'im. Now, what you thinking of that? It's not like we owe Lord Walder anything."

 _Yes, take me to the Brotherhood. Get me out of this cell._  It would still mean his death, but maybe he could get away before they reach them.

Derrick must have been as stubborn as he was dumb for he still didn't answer.

Jaime heard a step.

"You're not one of us" Derrick said to the third man. "What's your name?"

Nothing but silence through the thick door. Jaime tilted his head to hear better. But only long, uncomfortable, deafening silence, too long not to be enough to remember one's own name. Finally he heard two steps and the unmistakeable sound of a sword being drawn. Good steel hit cheap and then flesh.

"Hey!" he heard the man with the rusty voice, but his yalp was stuck in his throat as the nameless man's blade ran through it.

A thousand thoughts were swirling in Jaime's head, one even more impossible than the other. What if the Brotherhood had already taken over the castle? What if Brienne's hung corpse will be the first thing he sees if he steps out?

A key found its way in the door and Jaime took a step back, holding his only fist up like a madman. 

"Who are you?" he whispered as the light from the outside fell onto the floor.

The blue eyes answered his question before the man opened his mouth.

"Cooper" he said and Jaime recognised Bronn's voice.

 

* * *

 

Ser Goodwin told her years ago, no matter how strong her arms are, her heart will always be just as soft as any maiden's. Told her that one day it will cause her death, but he didn't say a word about Jaime Lannister.

The rumour about the Brotherhood was false. There was nothing but ale and drunk Freys awaiting Jaime at the Twins.  _Until I showed up._  It wasn't the cold, the thirst or her wounds that deprived her of sleep, it was the humiliation she felt when thinking about how shamelessly she let on her feelings. Under the blood and dirt she had to blush at the aching memory of Walder Frey's words that were still ringing in her head.  _She looks wet for you already._

Everyone in the hall heard it, everyone laughed, everyone knew.  _You sold out your stupid feelings like a little girl and now you will pay for it._   _They will send you to King's Landing, to Cersei Lannister, whose hair is gold, whose face is wonder and she'll know, oh she will know the truth, that is more ridiculous, than any lie that you love her brother._

 _She already knew before me._  Brienne remembered the beautiful face frozen in contempt, surprise and jealousy when she couldn't deny it.  _But you love him._   _Why didn't I say something? Anything. I could have laughed, I could have pretended to be indignant, but instead I stood there like a mute cow._  The game that the queen played so perfectly seemed a lot more difficult, than the one Brienne had practised since childhood. This one was played by lies, instead of swords.

What if Jaime knew it since then, too?  _Of course he did, he saw you cry when you turned back on the horse._  Such a foolish thing to do.  _I thought I wouldn't see him again, otherwise I wouldn't have..._

 _We were supposed to never meet again._  No words of the Commontongue, Valyrian or any human language could explain away why she did and Brienne knew hadn't she been on a horse, she wouldn't have been able to take a step further away from him.

It wasn't like they would ever put it into words, but both of them knew that something terrible happened in that moment that can't be accounted for within common sense, not in the world of words and notions like Lannister, Tarth, enemy or ally, but someplace deeper and better, somewhere in the warm King's Landing air midway in their distance where their eyes met. It was entirely new to both of them, a vision filtered through from another world, where he wasn't a Lannister and she wasn't the sworn sword of Sansa Stark.

But there was no other world, only this one, where the months they spent together traveling were merely an anomaly, something that only happened due to a series of misfortunate events. Brienne wondered if Jaime still remembered their voyage down the Trident, how he sang Three Maids in a Pool, the insults they threw at each other's heads. It would have made no difference if he did, they would still be locked in a cell, marked for early death, but still she knew it was the question on which all things turned.

His father came to her mind, silvery haired and bearded waving her goodbye when she left to join Renly's camp.  _I thought I could be his son instead of Galladon as I couldn't be her proper daughter._  Tears were scorching her throat when she thought of the raven he'd receive from the capital with the news of her death.  _Marry again, Father. And hope for a child you deserve._

It was not death she feared or the torture she'd have to endure in Cersei Lannister's hands, but the cowardice, the weakness the pain would bring out of her. She had been ready to die for honour for years, but now even that was taken away from her. She knew she was going to die, but first she will betray Sansa, Jon Snow and with them Lady Catelyn and - gods give her strength - Jaime too.

Brienne was trying to imagine what Sansa's face would look like after learning she was sent by Jaime Lannister to find her. Will she rage?  _Think I was a turncloak or even a spy who was only waiting for the right moment to fulfill Cersei's orders?_  

Surprisingly, it wasn't shame or desperation she felt at the thought, but for the first time she resented her lady.  _Why can't they ever believe that he acted out of good intentions?_  Suddenly she was overflown by an unreasonably passionate hatred towards the world, a world that hardened a good man into its shadow, a world that cared so little for the truth that it only had its place in a tub of Harrenhal.

All at once, she heard a key in the lock and she jerked to her feet.

They have come for her. They plan to do it while it's dark. Of course. She should have ended it long ago, instead of waiting. Her tunic could have easily been shredded to pieces and hung over a beam above her head. It was the first thing she checked when the guard shoved her into the cell.  _It would be over by now_ , she thought. But something stopped her. A pair of emerald eyes - that however foolish it was - she still hoped to see again.

"Hurry up, for fuck's sake. She's gonna jump out the window, while you're fucking around." 

The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn't recognise it. She took a step back and the door opened.

It was too dark to see anything, but Brienne's foolish eyes could swear they sensed shimmering gold somewhere in the gloom.  _A mirage._  Still it rolled off of her tongue before she could have stopped herself.

"Jaime...? Is it you?" Brienne whispered more to herself, than to the siluette of a man standing in the door.

She rather felt than saw the smile of the well-known eyes and all of a sudden her limbs freed from the spasm they've been in, since she heard Jaime's name and death in the same sentence.

"Who else could it be?" said the mirage.

Even in the dark she knew he was smiling with that light smile of his that could make every woman in Westeros melt. The annoying smile she had wanted to wipe off of his face so badly when they left the Stark camp.

Now it was sweeter, than a mother's kiss.

His voice sounded so young and careless, as if it was perfectly understandable that he would escape from his own cell and kill her guards just so he could visit her.

Her feet felt so light, she didn't even have to lift them, it was as tough something was pushing her towards him, an unnameable force that she no longer wished to resist.

Next thing she knew, her arms were around Jaime's shoulders, her head resting next to his and her heart trembled when she sensed his good hand clutch to her waist.

 _Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, don't let this be a dream._  As Jaime heard her sigh his right arm hold onto her too, stronger, and Brienne wouldn't have minded if they died there and then. They were so close as never before, and she knew, he probably felt the beating of her heart in his own chest..

"All right, all right, there'll be plenty of time for this... Or none if we don't hurry" the pleasant baritone of Bronn hit Brienne's ears as Jaime dropped his head and retrieved his left hand avoiding her gaze. His eyes played in such a colour she had never seen before and a strange, hectic expression sat in them. His voice was shaky when he started to speak.

"We need to get to the crossroad before dawn."

Brienne looked at Bronn, then back at Jaime again.

"Where are we going?"

The wrinkles around Jaime's eyes smiled at her.

"Tarth, my lady. The Sapphire Isle."

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you thought you'd seen the last of this hahaha

Light breeze was carressing Jaime's skin, smuggling sweet shivers under his shirt. Their ship had already left Estermont and was now calmingly close to Tarth. One could almost see on the horizon the famous sapphire-like waters that were licking the island's shores.

For some unknown reason, Jaime wished Brienne was standing on the deck as well, so they'd finally see her home together, the place that to them was more than just a nameless spot on the maps, it was as though they had a secret that was all theirs. Tarth meant their journey down the Trident, Jaime's insults to Brienne that felt more and more painful to him each passing day, it meant Brienne's screams when Vargo Hoat's men seized her, it was also his shriek as Zollo's blade reached his bone, it was Hoat's "Thapphireth!" that he waited for in vain from Brienne's father, it was the strange light in Brienne's eyes when she asked him why he lied for her and it was his deafeningly long, uneasy silence that followed. Tarth meant all of that, and it was only Brienne who knew this and even though it was merely more than nothing, Jaime wished he could share this moment with her. A part of him might have hoped that somehow it would make up for her absence that was so sweetly grievous the first time he saw it when traveling to Dorne.

But she wasn't there. In fact, during their week-long journey Jaime barely spent more than a few minutes with her alone. She was acting rather strangely. Jaime couldn't compare her demeanor to anything he had gotten used to from her. Of course, the Brienne that would have killed him with a look for one tasteless pun disappeared long ago, along with his own self that would anger her into a mistake to try to get back to Cersei.

 _We both left those versions of us in the tub of Harrenhal_. But what was after that, then? Uncomfortable formality that might have looked appropriate from the outside, but it was ridiculous to them, at least to Jaime, the way they kept distance even in Riverrun, Brienne calling him 'Ser' as if it wasn't her who washed his naked consciousless body after he fainted.

And now, this was what changed. There was no formality to hide behind, no request Brienne had to make on behalf of Sansa, no oath Jaime should swear to her in order to be a good Lannister and pay his debts. He wasn't a captive knight anymore and she wasn't his captor. Nor was she a temporary ally, hired to help him keep his oath. The only acceptable mutual goal Catelyn Stark had imposed upon them, to find Sansa and Arya have been kept. There was no further business they shared in the eyes of an outsider, no reason that could account for why the were on the same boat traveling to her home land. No reason other than the one they made perfectly sure never to talk about. Their castle of well-nurtured excuses that sheltered them from the elephant in the room had collapsed, and if they spoke they'd have had no other choice but to address it. 

This was what Brienne sensed. That they wouldn't have been there, had she not turned back her horse only to save him. No oath she had made to Catelyn Tully required her to do so, it was her own making and everything that happened to them after. What had always been left unsaid almost cost both of their lives.

She hadn't the faintest idea how to act around Jaime, that hug they shared when Jaime opened her cell changed everything, broke all the rules they carefully abided by throughout their encounters up to that point. Both of them confused what the other made of it, they mostly just remained silent. Brienne made sure she had something to attend to every time Bronn left them alone. 

The water shone more blue by every minute and even though Jaime half-knew it was only his imagination that longed for the arrival, he couldn't stay still any longer.

"Where is she?" he asked Bronn who was sitting on the deck with one leg pulled up, trying to solder down one of his boots that was probably made back in the day when Aegon the Conqeuror was but a tadpole in his lady mother's womb.

"Who?" he asked back not looking up.

Jaime frowned. "You know who."

Bronn put down the boot and glanced towards him. "I'm sorry, how am I supposed to know who you're talking about? We're pestered with female company here."

He was really pushing his limits this time. Bronn was acting even more unbearable since he owed his life to him. Jaime started to regret he even asked.

He fidgeted with the straps on his jacket, then looked back at the sea.

Bronn raised his gaze again, squinting in the sunlight.

"Would it break your tongue to say her name?"

Jaime's head snapped up as if he'd been hit, the emerald eyes pierced into the blue ones with sudden fury and indignation, until they were watching the waves again.

_He wouldn't understand._

"What's wrong with you?" Jaime asked a few moments later, pretending to be confused by Bronn's question.

"With me? You're the one wasting his breath on me instead of going down to her cabin and starting to act like a man."

The wrinkle between Jaime's eyes deepened, his look called for an immediate answer.

"What? Don't tell me, you haven't noticed the way she looks at you."

Jaime flinched at Bronn's words, then without a response jumped at him, grabbing his companion by the collar.

_She looks wet for you already._

_They speak of her like a whore_ , he thought with helpless anger. He wouldn't expect anything else from Walder Frey, but Bronn... Doesn't he realise how he degrades her just by assuming that a woman like her could ever want a man like him.

"Easy, boy, easy" Bronn panted with a faint smile. "Has the sea air damaged your brain? You're an even bigger fool, than you look like if you haven't realised it yet."

Jaime slowly loosened his grip on him, his eyes desperately searching for something to cling onto, Bronn's look, the words he just said, he wished they'd never go away, a foolish seventeen year boy in him wanted to ask back and get it all out of him, all that he knew, or claimed to know, regardless if it was madness or not, it didn't matter, but he just let him go for he was not truly angry at him, but afraid. Afraid that what Bronn said and what the seventeen-year-old naive lad dared to hope wasn't true.

Bronn stared at him for long, trying to figure out what was going on in his head.

"Aye, you're a fool" he nodded at last. "But you don't fool me. Don't act like you haven't decided to go to her cabin hours ago."

...

Jaime didn't know if he should have knocked for the second time.

_Maybe she is sleeping. Of course. She's been through so much. Why would she want to be disturbed, especially for no reason._

_Perhaps she is getting dressed and she needs time to put on her breeches._ Jaime's one good hand weighed on the handle...

 _Or maybe she didn't hear me knock. Maybe the door is extremely thick and she didn't hear it._  Maybe he should knock again. Jaime wondered what kind of wood is the door made of....

_What if it's so thick that she had already answered, but I couldn't hear it and now she's wondering why I haven't come in yet._

He was grateful Bronn didn't see his struggle.

Just as he had made up his mind and raised his hand again, he heard her voice clearly. It said "Yes?".

Brienne was sitting on her bed, fully clad, her face showing a mixture of surprise, fear and curiosity. Her eyes were blue guidelines in the half-light, calling attention to her unprobably blonde eyebrows. 

Jaime immediately forgot why he came.

"My lady" even this way of addressing sounded off. Jaime doubted if Brienne liked to be called lady and as soon as he said it, he realised the awkward callback it made to their conversation in his tent at Riverrun. Lady and Lord were words that belonged to elegant, fragrant gardens of the Tyrells and luscious, snob and golden throne rooms, they were expressions used by idiots to politely refer to other idiots. They had a place only during the long summers, when people had no better things to do than to joust and gossip about the next royal wedding. But they had none in times like those where Walder Frey was a lord and everything lost its original meaning.

 _What the hell did I mean by that?_ _Even if she's a lady, she's certainly not my lady._ God, it was so hard to say anything, where the only thing worth saying must not be uttered ever in a million years.

Brienne looked noticably uncomfortable. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to say something, maybe say his name in return, but her tongue wasn't ready for "just Jaime" this time.

 _We both need a near-death experience to be able to say each others' names_. Luckily, Jaime saw her struggle, and came to his own rescue.

"I hope you're not feeling sick."

Her surprised look was unchanged. "No, I'm fine... Thank you" she added a few seconds later.

She looked so soft saying that. As if there truly was something to be thankful about.

Jaime nodded. Failing to come up with an answer, he almost reached for the handle, but Brienne's voice stopped him.

"For everything. Thank you for everything."

Jaime stared at her for a moment. He wasn't prepared to answer these words, nor the beautiful, grateful, blue of her eyes.

"You mean the terrible weather and the lices in the blanket?"

Brienne's lips opened and they allowed her teeth to show. _She's smiling_. One tooth was broken in half at the front that Jaime didn't remember being that way at Riverrun. _Fucking Freys._

It was an ever so subtle smile, but still... Jaime's eyes drank the sight immediately. Over just one moment he understood all the knights of every song ever written who were foolish enough to risk everything for their lady's glance. He couldn't resist the urge to continue.

"Please, do remind me what you mean. Of recent, people go to extreme lenghts to express their gratitude to me for my many great deeds, you ought to specify which one you're refering to."

He was aware that his tone was remarkably different from the one he hit when he came in, different from any in which he had ever spoken to Brienne. But he didn't mind. He could have done it all day, if that meant he could be looking at the same smile of hers.

She felt the difference, too. She saw playful stars lit up in Jaime's eyes and voice and the corner of his lips turn up. His face changed entirely. He looked as young as she had only imagined him, too young to have lost two grown-up children. And he was looking at _her_ with those eyes, wasting precious time to joke around, not with anybody else, but with her. Hadn't it been Jaime, she would have even thought that - no that was impossible.

After a few moments of blissful unease on both's part, Brienne turned her head down as if she was looking inside for an answer. Then she looked up at Jaime again, the way only she could look at him, and Jaime knew it wasn't the Kingslayer, the Lannister, nor even the Young Lion she saw, but  _just Jaime,_  bare and naked as he was born, stripped of all prejudice, both fallible and good and he recognised himself in her eyes.

"If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be alive." Then, a little later she added, as if she wasn't sure if she had said it already: "Thank you."

Jaime didn't remember when was the last time someone directed those two words to him and actually meant them.

"Thank you" he repeated her words drunkenly. There was no helping it. _She is so good through and through._

A wrinkle appeared between Brienne's brows and her eyes grew in hope and concern.

"For what?"

 _For being like this_ , Jaime thought. But that he couldn't say.

"Well... wasn't it you who saved me from good old Walder Frey's company? Your visit was undoubtedly the high point of the whole evening."

He meant to say it to ease the mood, but in truth, he was as nervous as a squire of fifteen.

The wrinkle smoothed out, but this time only her lips were smiling, not her eyes. _Damn_. He needed to do better.

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad..." she said prudently, trying to match Jaime's joking tone, "her many daughters must have been great distractions."

Jaime had to let out a small laugh at her assumption.

"Have you ever seen them?" The only thing those poor souls could distract was that bastard, Roose Bolton, in case they weighed enough.

Brienne avoided his gaze.

"Maybe they weren't blessed with good looks, but women can have other qualities of importance -"

She cut herself off, as though she was afraid she had said too much.

"Qualities?" Jaime asked back amused. _Like playing up with their rat father to murder people?_

"...that could make up for what they lack in appearance and beauty..."

The last words she said with such a low, breathless voice, she wasn't sure if she just thought them and Jaime wanted to be devoured by the earth to not have to feel his sudden, scorching shame that appeared in the wake of the realisation of his utter foolishness.

Oh, this was not about the Frey girls, nor their weasel faces.

Suddenly, words came up from the back of his mind, words that he thought he had long forgotten, but now they were fresh and alive and stung him to the quick.

_You're much uglier in daylight._

_You're just as boring as you are ugly._

 "To hell with beauty!" he yelled all of a sudden, being aware how stupid it sounded, but he had to talk down his own words that kept ringing in his head. If only they could have been wiped out forever. _From my memory and hers._ "I was a fool then, and an idiot now _."_

He looked at Brienne. _I said it out loud._

Brienne turned red as a beet, having gotten a response for the words she immediately regretted as they left her lips. It must have been the seasickness, otherwise she wouldn't have beeen so reckless. Why would she be talking about beauty with Jaime Lannister, or interrogate him about Walder Frey's daughters?

Jaime saw her embarassment, so he leapt to the rescue.

"Anyway, what business did you have at the Twins? You never told us why you were there in the first place. I thought you were well on your way to Winterfell."

Brienne swallowed. This was one of the reasons she avoided Jaime after they left for Tarth. The main reason, really.

She sighed.

"We were in an inn with Podrick on our way North" she started, not looking at Jaime. "A bunch of half-drunk peasants were there. I shouldn't have listened -"

She dropped her head, so he couldn't see her face. Jaime, who until that point kept walking up and down in the cabin, sat down on the bed only a few inches to her left. His face smoothed out in attention for somehow he sensed that what she was about to say may have the potential to solve the puzzle between them that only became more confusing by the day ever since Catelyn Tully decided they should meet in this godforsaken life.

"There was really no reason for me to believe them..." she raised her head, then having realised how close he suddenly was, confronted with the emerald eyes, it fell again. 

"They said the Brotherhood would attack the Twins" she fixed her eyes at one point across the wall. "They said 'with all the goddamn Freys and the bloody Lannisters gathered, there's no way they would miss such an opportunity.'"

It was easier not to use her own words. That would be dangerous. Who knows what she would say with him breathing so close to her. Something foolish, probably.

"'The Kingslayer won't live the next day if you ask me'".

She tried to keep her voice free of emotions, despite the constant feeling of wanting to cry of embarrassment and sweet pain between each word. Then a few moments later she added plainly in an indifferent tone just to seal her fate:

"I told Podrick to ready the horses."

Yes, something like that.

 _There you go, I said it_. The rest was perfectly obvious.

She felt like a criminal confessing to his sin. And now she looked at the green eyes to see what punishment they might impose on her for her foolishness. She felt surprisingly calm, awaiting his response.

She was guilty and she knew it. What did it matter that her sin was love?

Jaime clenched his jaw tight and looked at her like he had difficulty processing her words.

He studied carefully every inch of her face as if it was the first time he saw it. At last, the corners of his eyes turned up and the shining emeralds were smiling at Brienne. They were playing in a myriad of shades, gratitude, joy, sadness, admiration, and something that - there was something else, too she had yet to identify when Jaime's hand clutched her jaw and held it firmly while his lips collided into hers and stayed there, begging, yearning for an opening they only got after Brienne brought herself to close her eyes.


End file.
